Rebirthed
by Victoreas
Summary: Zuko killed Aang over three years ago, sealing the worlds fate.. or so it was thought. But the Avatar's powers have found a new body & soul to host the Spirit of the Earth...


**Chapter One – "The Meeting"**

Night descended upon the world as Prince Zuko motioned for his soldiers to make ready their arms upon the hour; they were preparing for an armored strike against the Northern Water Tribe. It would be very easy, he knew; all of the waterbenders, save for the women, had left to fight against the Fire Nation with the Earth Kingdom warriors. There had been little resistance getting through the ice caps; though the fleets metal sides had started to crack, delaying them a week or so. He knew this would give the savages time to prepare; and he would let them. The Avatar was dead – and now that he was Prince again, he needed more exciting challenges than were offered beforehand.  
Besides, he and his men were itching to destroy something. His father had sent him on a journey to destroy all of the Water Tribe's villages; this would most likely quell any fighting spirit the opposition had. Then they would obliterate a few Earth Kingdom villages; the ones who resisted joining the Fire Nation, of course. Loyal earthbenders were allowed to live, as long as they fought for their superiors, the firebenders. This pathetic game of war was coming to an end, and soon; and, frankly, he couldn't really wait. Once home, he would be welcomed back with a kings banquet; and there would be much drink, women, and song for him to have. The years had not left him without his wants.  
A loud boom sounded as the first cannons were fired, obliterating the first ice walls, the only defense this pathetic place had. The screams and the smell of burning flesh pierced the air. It reminded him of that day, when he had finally wrought hell upon his hated enemies; the Avatar, and his stupid little companions. The look in the boy's eyes was priceless as he shot fire through his body, and the two brats that were with him were quickly disposed of. Mercy was for the weak, and upon that hour he had finally stripped himself of his last weakness. But his duty brought him back to reality and he smirked as he saw the ice melting, showing the buildings and canals. The ship continued forward, crashing through, and his men started jumping onto the land – the benders first, soldiers second.  
The people were defenseless, they knew that and he knew that. He had told his soldiers only to kill those who resisted, and to bring those who did not aboard. These people would either be sold as slave labor or, in the women benders' case, kept as healers. They would submit or they would die. It was as simple as that. And, by the dead Avatar, it _would_ work...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_She slept peacefully, as she had been doing for the past three years. She was a mystery; no one knew how, or why, she was still in slumber. Her name was Azarni, and she was the daughter of one of the most respected villagers. Even as her family screamed around her, she did not stir. Still as stone, she was not truly alive, yet not dead; her body produced warmth while she was not breathing.  
__As the soldiers crept closer, they spotted her; and it was a strange sight, indeed. She was dressed in the finery of a funeral; her dress long and a deep steelblue, as in mourning. Flowers of all kinds, mostly white, delicate ones, were around her, from her life also alive without nourishment. And there were two offering plates, upon which sacrifices of precious objects and meat were given in appeal to the gods.  
__Hesitantly, they turned, to find their commander so that he might give them orders upon what to do. They had not expected to see this; a funeral, perhaps? And they, while at war, would not desecrate a dead body. They do not know that if they had crept closer, they would have felt the life emitting from her body. She was, indeed, a miracle – of what, only the gods knew..._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

" Your Highness, Prince Zuko," Said a voice he recognized from behind him; commander Zhao, his underling. The ends of his lips curved upward in a sneer, and he turned. " Yes, Commander?"  
" The soldiers are having problems with something. Half of them haven't returned yet, and it seems that there may have been a band of benders left behind. Otherwise, I don't know what they're fighting." His eyes were downcast in respect for his higher officer. " What are your orders?"  
" They shouldn't be having trouble, Commander. I think I'll go see for myself what is taking the grunts so long." With a dry chuckle, he turned. " Why don't you watch over the prisoners, Commander?"  
" Yes, your Highness," The man growled before also turning, stalking off to the lower decks to do his commanded duty.  
Zuko started down one of the ladders, skimming down them onto to the ground. He started at a fast pace, fists clutched, ready to send out a wave of fire if need be. He had learned to be cautious and ready for surprise attacks; time and experience had taught him that. Then he heard it – the sounds of battle. There was screaming, but not only of pain, but of orders; to fight to the death. _Something_ was killing off his men, and he would stop it.  
Breaking out into a run, he pulled a lance out from its holder on the back of his armor; pushing through the rubble and smoke, his vision nulled. He could smell not only smoke, but rain now; but when did it rain? He couldn't remember it having happened. Pushing on, he finally heard clearly enough to gather what was happening.  
" Don't be afraid – keep moving in! If you can survive the cyclone, you can survive the walls of water! Move, move!"  
Cyclone? Water? What in the name of the Avatar was going on?  
Finally having made it into the outer crowd of soldiers, he pulled the highest ranking official he could find aside. " What's going on?" He demanded.  
" The men – they went into a hut and found a girl – they thought she was dead and set the place afire on orders, and she – she woke up! And then she started using airbending, then watering, and we've been trying to stop her -"  
He growled. " Have you lost your mind, soldier? The Avatar is dead! I killed him myself!"  
" Don't believe me? Keep going ahead. You're soon as dead, sir."  
He would have killed the insubordinate right then for mouthing off if he wasn't so confused. Punching and kicking, he made his way, soon seeing the smoke clear. And, by the Avatar, the man had been right. Many tunnels of air, small tornados in their own right, formed a barrier. Each man who stepped in screamed in agony as their bodies where wrenched apart or, worst, compacted together, bones breaking with no effort. There were only small areas between these cyclones, and some men slipped through – only to be pulled up and swallowed into a wall of water, drowning. This was a display of power he had never seen before, not even with the Avatar – it was defensive, yet it was deadly, so deadly already a part of his own army had fallen to it. The water was red as blood and the cyclones were spitting out the stuff, along with flesh and other nasty things.  
For the first time in his life, he shuddered, continuing to push on ahead; screaming, " Fall back! Fall back!" Immediately, at sight of their leader, the men did so, allowing him to go further. Pulling his fist back, he shot in a huge fireball, steam rising as water evaporated. But then the steam was pulled back in after a few seconds, replacing the small, gaping hole he had left. " Stand back, men – I'm going in. Don't follow me unless you want to die now," he hissed.  
He crouched low, bending a ball of fire – pushing it into the small space showing water. The liquid evaporated once more, and he quickly propelled himself inside, narrowly escaping a watery fate as the hole closed back up. Standing, he looked up, and saw a young woman cradling in her lap an old man who looked to have been stabbed; rocking back and forth, sobbing, her eyes wide and a dark blue color. Wind rippled around her, her hair whipping in her face; but she was lost in her own pain.  
It was obvious to him that she was the source of the power. He took a step forward, readying to throw a blast of fire at her. She just looked up at him, brow furrowing as she set down the man she had been holding in her arms. Standing, she started walking towards him, her palms opening in a claw-like bend. With a hiss, she pulled back, turning, then sending a wave of fire at him. But she was still using the water bending technique, in a way – and with a huff, he divided the fireball with his hand, reflecting half of it back at her. She simply held up her hand, stopping it midair then throwing it to the side.  
This was either going to be very painful or very interesting.. he guessed both.  
Leaping up, he propelled himself higher into the air by blasting the ground with another fireball. Then he launched more balls of fire at the girl, before landing safely on the ground on all fours. She deflected them by pulling up large pieces of earth, the heat melding it into lava. She rushed ahead, in turn kicking him, her leg stone solid, in the side. He dodged, grabbing her leg and pulling forward, letting her fall. She scrambled to stand up, but he grabbed her garments by the collar, pulling her up to face him.  
Letting out a roar, he contorted his face; fear was the best weapon against a strong opponent. She just screamed back, starting to punch him, not only with strong limbs but with fire. He withstood this, waiting for her to exhaust herself. This continued, for how long he didn't know, but he could feel himself about to give way. But she was about to, too. Her eyes closed, and she groaned, her punches with less power now. The wind had died down, and the wall of water had fallen.  
Finally, she sagged, and he let go, watching her drop. Growling, he fell to his knees, coughing up blood. This pain was too intense for him – his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell forward, crushing her with his weight. The last thing he remembered was blackness, and the cries of victory he heard from his troops as everything faded into black, then a beautiful, pure white...

**Chapter One fin.**

**I don't own ATLA, nor it's official characters.  
However, I do own my characters, and if you can't tell which ones they are,  
You're an idiot. nn  
Please do not steal any of the ideas, nor complain about said ideas used in story.  
I'll just laugh at you then go back to eating my turkey because you're so lame to do that.**

**EDIIIIIT : Everything after episode 18 of the Water scroll never happened for this story.  
So stuff it or I'll beat you. Get it? Got it? Good.**


End file.
